


till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers

by feralphoenix



Series: the away game [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Autistic Frisk, Awkward Sex, Body Worship, DFAB Chara, Explicit Sexual Content, Gender Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Intersex Frisk, Nonverbal Frisk, Other, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Spoilers - Undertale Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 03:15:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10453710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feralphoenix/pseuds/feralphoenix
Summary: Frisk wants to try something that is both important to them and easier proposed than actually done. Chara is both patient and receptive.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _(because hands speak more intimately than words_ – and set my teeth in the [silver](http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1595/i-will-wade-out/) of the moon)
> 
> the "gender issues" tag mostly involves some oblique references to intersexism and dysphoria. the references are very brief but better safe than sorry.
> 
> also, frisk is kind of anxious about asking for things they really want and then receiving them and what is and isn't manipulative because rip their poor bpd ass.
> 
> asriel's not around this evening but his role in the relationship is still referenced enough that im sticking him in the ship tags. (mad dummy voice) whatever. whatever. whatever

You bend Chara back over the mattress until your arms skim the sheets, and only then do you release them, sliding your arms out from under them until you’ve got your palms placed to either side of their waist and they’re rested eager and relaxed across the comforter.

They cup the back of your head with one hand, light and careful over your hair, as you lick the soft vulnerable parts of their throat; their other hand slips under the cup of your bra to roll fingertips over your nipple. Your breasts are too full to be sensitive like theirs—you hardly feel any pleasure or even discomfort when Asriel squeezes and kneads them—but you still feel a nice tingling when Chara rubs and lightly pinches your nipples like this, tiny little pulses of pleasure that make your clit twitch.

Chara retracts their hands politely and lies back against the mattress as you straighten up to consider them. Their hair makes a soft halo around their face and shoulders, sticking to their skin here and there; their eyes are hooded and unfocused, their face flushed, their mouth red and swollen from kissing.

You lift one hand off the bed, wait for them to nod, and set your fingertips light on their clavicle. They shiver; their pupils dilate, their breathing quickens, gooseflesh stands on their upper arms. Your pussy aches for contact at the sight of their obvious arousal, but you wriggle your hips a little in midair and take a deep breath. You’ve got to take it slow.

So you bring your fingers down over the fine chain of Chara’s locket languidly, admiring their body underneath yours as you trace the contours of it.

For all that the two of you used to look so similar at first glance when you were children, and for all that you’re still nearly the same height, you’ve grown into such different shapes as adults that no one could mix you up anymore. Chara is brittle where you’re sturdy, thin and bony where fat makes you round and soft. Their body hair grows thinner than yours does, though unlike you they only shave it off when the whim strikes. The breast you cup gently on your way down (Chara gasps and jerks their hips up a little, every bit as hungry for contact as you are) is narrow and small with only one or two stretch marks hidden along its side. The areola is pink and puffy, the nipple small but stiff and pert with arousal. There’s no scattered strands of longer hair around their areolae like yours, and none down the thin-skinned and vulnerable valley between their breasts either.

You swirl the pad of your thumb up over Chara’s nipple. They squeeze their eyes shut and mewl a little from deep in their throat, a helpless frustrated tiny noise. Their hips keep pistoning futilely upwards. You could tuck your hand or your knee between their thighs and they’d come almost right away, you think; you could drop your mouth to their nipple and suckle it and they’d come in a minute or two. But you do neither; you knead their breast softly one more time and then release it, skimming your palm and fingers over their side.

They’re so thin. It’s weird to you, having grown up fat and healthy on your adoptive mother’s cooking alongside her even chubbier birth son; Chara’s thinness seems to defy all common sense. But you don’t have to press down far to feel their ribs, and their waist is narrow, and the bones of their hips are prominent and sharp. Some combination of a fast metabolism and how easy it is for them to forget they need to eat when they’re focused or in a depressive slump. You remember being dry-stick skinny and being unable to bear the cold, so you shift to place the full of your palm along their naked skin and rub up and down, bracing instead of teasing.

Scars still lattice the pale underbellies of their arms: Faded, fresh and shiny white, half-healed pink, livid mauve. The blister pockmarking on their hands from so very, very long ago is still there too, but so light now that you think it would be invisible if they were white. There are a few stray scars in other places: One on their thigh that’s still got a few bits of scab, and then another over their side that’s almost disappeared with time. The fresh ones are fewer, these days. You don’t alter the course of your fingers when you’re about to cross one, but you try to be gentle with them.

The dark hair leading down to Chara’s pubes starts where the curve of their belly dips and then flattens into their groin, and you trace the seam of their thigh, dragging your fingers through the sparse coarse hairs. Their breath hitches, and they lift their hips again, legs splayed just enough to show that their thighs and the cheeks of their ass are already slick and wet with their precome.

You fold your lips into your mouth to wet them and a little to steady yourself, and then you shift your weight to stroke the seam of their labia. Chara gasps out a quiet little _fuck!_ and pushes into your hand; you let the force of their movement spread your index and middle fingers so that they’re parting the outer lips of their pussy as much as you are.

They’re flushed dark red between their legs, soaked and swollen; you trace between their inner and outer lips and they moan and you can feel the muscles of their thighs twitching on either side of you. Vaguely you realize that your mouth is dry, and you swallow as you gently tease their inner lips open too.

Chara grunts from further up the bed, all but vibrating under your touch. “Frisk,” they rasp, “will you get _on_ with it already.”

Your heart’s pounding and your pussy’s aching as you pet them with careful fingertips. Even erect, their clit is small, tucked neatly away where someone unfamiliar with vaginas might miss it; you’ve seen the mouth of their pussy stretched wide to take the ample girth of Asriel’s cock, but it’s neat and narrow now, moving lightly in time with Chara’s rapid heartbeat.

Remembering the sight of Asriel fucking them, watching from up close, makes your insides clench and squirm with the insistent need to be filled. You’d sit on Asriel in a second if he were here, let him wrench you open even painfully just for the joy of feeling him inside you all at once and right away. Or, if you had a toy at hand, you’d brace yourself up against something steady and fuck yourself with it. You want Chara to cup your vulva in their hand, pump their fingers into you, or hold your hips while they push their tongue inside you.

But overruling that is the thick wet silky feel of Chara’s pussy under your fingers, your thumb almost sinking into them but not quite, their heartbeat thrumming frantically against your forefinger where it rests over their clit.

You swallow hard and say aloud, “There’s something I want to try.”

Chara swallows too, roughly; you can see the vulnerable curve of their throat move so powerfully it shifts their whole ribcage, their shoulders and breasts and their arms, anchored as they are by two fists tight on the comforter. “Either let me come or let me think,” they tell you, “and then talk to me about it.”

Reluctant though you are, you dutifully retract your hand. Chara lets out their breath in a soft _whoof_ and relaxes their death grip on the bed.

This maybe isn’t a discussion that you can have comfortably while bent over your partner, so you step back and find a seat on the bed next to them, one leg up on the mattress and your other foot grazing the floor. You’ll soak the comforter like this, but Chara almost certainly has done already, and you’ve got to change the bedsheets before Asriel comes home from business the day after tomorrow anyway. It doesn’t matter.

Chara, for their part, doesn’t deign to sit up. They let their head roll to the side and look up at you; their pupils are still dilated so wide that their irises are a thin red ring around the black. They look a little like a very curious cat. It’s cute.

They pat the sheets to get your attention. “Frisk,” they croak. “Tell me about this latest bright idea of yours.”

You lift your hands briefly, then rest them back on your thighs; open your mouth, then close it. You’ll have to think about how to explain it properly.

Chara is still watching you; they roll onto their side and rest their head on their arm, probably to face you better. “I’m assuming that this is something you want to try with just the two of us, before Asriel gets back home?”

You smile a little as you nod. _This is something that I think I can only do with you,_ you tell them. _And I don’t want either of us to feel awkward or embarrassed about him watching us or knowing that we’re trying something behind his back. About feeling like he’s expecting something from us, whether he actually is or not. And—I think this is something you’d understand better, too._

“Okay,” Chara says, nodding. “Do you think you can elaborate, then?”

You hesitate a moment longer, then force yourself to recall the feel of their pussy under your fingers just now. Take a deep breath and just dive in.

 _I’m—when I have an erection my clit is still only about two inches long, maybe,_ you say slowly, pausing to indicate yourself. Chara’s got an easy view of you with your legs spread like this, which is why you chose to sit this way in the first place. _And I know that’s not—not really ideal for, for “penis”-in-vagina sex, for lack of a better term, but…_

“You want to try to be inside me,” Chara supplies. They prop themself up on their elbow, looking just intrigued enough for all the other words to spring to your hands in a rush.

 _I’ve been thinking about whether I could for a long time,_ you say. _I want to find out, if that’s okay with you._

Chara’s nodding almost before your hands are done moving. “That sounds reasonable. I’m fine with giving it a try.”

You’re left stunned and almost guilty. _It will be—different, I’m sure, and… and I don’t know if I could give you enough stimulation for you to come. But if you really want to…_

Chara shrugs and smiles a little. “I like having Asriel inside me, but sometimes I can’t come just from his cock, or it takes me too long to. There’s any number of extra things we could do to help me if it’s not enough.” They push themself up into a sitting position and reach out to touch your face, palms warm on your cheeks. “You’re about the same size as those bullet vibrators of yours that you wanted me to try but I hated the texture of, and _your_ boner is made of flesh, not anything that would be hell for me where I’m especially sensitive. So I’m game. And if for whatever reason this isn’t a good time for one or both of us, if this isn’t working, we can stop.” They squish your face a little, smiling. “So you don’t have to worry about making sure I _really_ want this.”

You lean in and push your forehead against theirs, closing your eyes. “Thanks,” you whisper.

Chara strokes your face and shoulders and back in silence for another moment. “Is my radar off,” they whisper at last, “when I get the feeling that this is maybe a gender thing? Only you’re usually a lot more forthright when you’ve got some new idea you want to try.”

It’s too complicated a question to answer aloud, so you straighten up; Chara lets you, their hands sliding off your skin like water. _Mmmmm…aybe…? A little. I mean—I love my pussy, I love being fucked in it, I don’t want to trade it for a dick like Asriel’s. But I… want to feel more intersex in bed sometimes. I want feeling intersex to feel good._

You try to be as okay as you can be with your body and your gender and the history that made you, but sometimes the myth of the sex binary is just as heavy and painful as the myth of the gender binary. Sometimes things like health care and societal norms are inconvenient for you on a systemic level that’s even worse than they are for Chara. And sometimes that makes you tired. But you _refuse_ to be ashamed of what you are, or treated as anything other than what you are.

And—you can never be traditionally _androgynous_ the way that Chara can. But you’ll _always_ be intersex.

It’s still too jumbled up for you to really explain in a way that it’s all connected properly instead of jumping from thought to thought, but Chara still nods like they get the gist of what you mean.

“All right,” they say, leaning in, all practicality. “How do you want to do this?”

You hesitate. _Do you want to keep going with foreplay until you come, or…?_

“It will probably be easier for me to come with you if I haven’t already,” Chara tells you, shrugging. “Did you have a position that you wanted to try, since you’ve been thinking about this for a while?”

 _I’m not sure,_ you say, which is only a white lie, _but I think we can maybe start with missionary and see if that works._

“All right,” Chara says again, and they scoot further up the bed as you gather pillows.

The bed you and your partners share is extra large, a size Chara complains is too big when both you and Asriel are away for work. But it’s very convenient for sex, with more than enough room for both of you to maneuver. One of you can lie on your back and the other on your front to eat each other out and you won’t be halfway hanging off the bed like the days when you still lived at Toriel’s place, and there’s even room for Asriel to stretch out while the three of you fuck.

So you don’t have to navigate the edges of the mattress while getting Chara set up with one pillow under their head and two under their hips, and you’re in no danger of falling as you crawl so that you’re kneeling between their spread knees again. This is good; Chara’s smiling up at you all warm and relaxed as they pant, and the trust in their face and the way that their rough breathing makes their breasts move and the subtle twitching of their eager pussy has you hard and wet and shaky with want. It’s difficult to focus on much else.

Chara squeezes your sides between their thighs briefly, then lets their legs splay wide. “If you need me to move to make this easier, let me know,” they say.

You chew your lip for a moment and push your hips forward gently, thinking to at least graze your clit along Chara’s vulva to tease them as you gauge how easy or difficult it might be to enter them at this angle. But when your tentative thrust connects, you aren’t rewarded with your aching clit skimming over or between their wet lips. Instead you’re pinched awkwardly between your own thighs, and the skin of your legs grazes Chara’s outer labia instead.

You frown, rest your weight on your hands so that you can inch your knees a little further apart on the mattress, and try again. Nope: Your thighs are still between your clit and Chara, and your thighs are what bump against their pussy.

Feeling your face flush a little, you breathe out through your nose.

“Frisk?”

You flick your gaze up to see that Chara has their chin tucked to their chest to watch you. They probably can’t see exactly what’s going on from that angle, although you know that they’ll know that you’re missing.

“Can’t believe I’m literally getting cockblocked by my own thighs,” you joke, and Chara snorts a little. They clap their hand over their mouth right away to try to muffle their laughter, and you smile, hoping they’ll know that you wouldn’t have poked fun at yourself if you weren’t okay with them finding it funny.

“They must feel left out,” Chara says through their fingers, grinning. “I’ll have to lavish attention on them some other time to make sure they know I still love them and think they’re beautiful.”

Your whole face flushes; you _feel_ your nipples go hard against the fabric of your bra, your clit twitches, your pussy clenches hungrily. Spreading your knees further, almost at the point where your legs would protest the angle, you buck your hips again—still futile. Chara’s pussy presses against your pubes, wet enough to white out your mind, and they make a quiet little noise in their throat that’s more like a gasp than a cry of pleasure.

“Sorry,” you mumble, but Chara has started giggling; they wrap their legs around your waist and reel you in softly to kiss your cheeks.

“This is turning into round two of that one time I suggested we try scissoring,” they say, voice quavering with mirth. You can’t help it—you laugh too. Chara is being generous; that had been a whole lot messier and more awkward, given that you were both a lot younger and less experienced then. Neither one of you had gotten enough stimulation to come; the jostling and the position had both been uncomfortable. In the end you’d just given up when Chara’s wrists got too sore for them to hold themself upright.

“One more pillow,” you say, and Chara loosens their hold on you so that you can stretch to the side to get another one. There’s more shuffling as they try to hold themself up off the bed for you to get the third pillow under their hips to lift them higher, and more shuffling still as they get comfortable.

You examine the angle of their hips and yours critically. “Can I fold your legs?”

Chara nods; you rest your hands on the underside of their thighs, gently pushing them closer to Chara’s chest. Curled and with their hips raised, you’ve got easier access to their pussy, but… Maybe if you’re more on top of them and your legs are spread wider…?

You shift your hands up to Chara’s knees and scoot in so that you’re kneeling with the backs of your thighs brushing where Chara’s thighs meet their ass, your knees on either side of their waist. This feels better. Chara’s fucked you with a strap-on in this position—it must be easier to push yourself inside them this way.

So you thrust tentatively again, and: This time Chara’s pussy presses flush against your belly just below your navel, squishing your fat in and startling a full-throated moan out of them. They push their hips back as best they can, short and reflexive.

You remove your right hand from Chara’s leg; they reach up to hold it in place on their own. This frees you up to spread the lips of your own pussy and steady your clit better.

Despite this, your next thrust just winds up pushing your knuckles into Chara’s pubes. Your clit is no nearer to the mouth of their pussy than it’s been this entire time.

“I can’t even see what I’m _doing,”_ you complain, and start to giggle, giving up and plunking down on the mattress with your legs still stretched out around Chara. They let their own legs fall over yours and sit up, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a smile.

“Missionary officially confirmed ungood for phalloclit-in-vagina intercourse,” they say. “Perhaps a different position would be better suited.”

You stick your tongue out at them. _And what do you have in mind, Mx Pretentious?_

Chara leans in quick as anything and licks your lip and the tip of your tongue, sending a hot jolt of pleasure straight to your crotch. Their locket thumps into your chest with the force of inertia as they close their lips over your tongue and suck lightly; you hum into their mouth and nibble at their lip as they pull back.

“May I try riding you?” they ask, soft, still so close that flyaway strands of their hair are tickling your face. “I think this may go more easily if we switch positions.”

You nod. Chara swings one leg awkwardly around so that they can ease away from the pillows and give you room to lay down on them instead.

 _All three?_ you sign, pointing at the ones you’d put under their hips.

“We can start with two if you think that’s better,” they say. You shrug and lie back; the pillow under your head helps you see what’s going on without having to strain your neck, and your bra keeps your breasts from completely retreating over either side of your ribcage.

Chara directs you to spread your legs and lift your feet a little. They spend a moment in what seems to be silent contemplation, eyelids lowered slightly, and then they straddle you, looping one elbow under your knee and holding the folds of their pussy open with their free hand. They keep their head bent the whole time, as if hesitating to lower themself fully unless they know where they’re going.

“Would you hold yourself open too, please?” they ask, brow furrowed with concentration, and you nod and reach down to pull your labia away from your clit. “You might have to help guide me; it _is_ hard to gauge what I’m doing from this angle.”

You’ve still got a hand free, so you settle it on Chara’s hip as they ease themself down inch by inch. The heat of their pussy reaches you first, and you catch your breath; the tip of your clit touches wet skin and you gasp and fight to keep from squirming. Chara shudders and chews their lip for a moment before inching their hips forward just a little, and their thighs press against yours and your clit is flush against them, pounding with a burning ache that seems to spread through your whole body—

“Move your hand,” Chara is telling you, their breathing short, and you do, and they lower their hips all the way, pulling their own fingers back at the last moment before your clit sinks into them and they’re sitting in your lap, all their weight rested on your pelvis.

You’re wrapped in wet heat, the soft uneven walls of them a gentle pressure around you. Their vulva is pressed up against your pubes and the lips of your own pussy, searing, soaking. Little flickers of light cross your vision as you pant, trying to absorb the new sensations. There are only two inches of you inside them, but it feels like it’s rippling all through your body. Chara’s sucked you off before, and you’ve—you’ve loved it every time, but _this_ —they’re so soft inside. They seem to contract and relax around you minutely as they breathe, as their heart beats.

You blink, gasping, dizzied. Chara is smiling down at you, their whole face bright red; their chest and their stomach are tinged pink. There’s sweat on their face and on their breasts. You see their throat work (they tighten on you gently) and they rasp out, “Well, how does it feel?”

You moan. Chara laughs—their walls flutter around you and you gasp—and they hook their free arm around your other leg; they shift their weight on the mattress and on you to find a better balance.

Their legs tense around your hips, and they start to rise up like they would when fucking Asriel—and then stop short and sit back down as you almost slip right out of them, much smaller than his cock as you are. Your first attempt at moving isn’t much better—when you’re lying on your back you’ve usually got Asriel’s cock or Chara’s fingers or a toy or someone’s tongue inside you, and so you’re used to moving in a way that’ll help your partner piston in and out. Chara whimpers in what you’re pretty sure isn’t a good way, and you nearly pull yourself out of them again; you freeze and let them settle again.

“Your heart’s going so fast,” they murmur, and close their eyes. “Frisk, if—if you move up and I move back and forth—”

“Okay,” you breathe, and you thrust upwards shallowly. Chara tightens their hold on your thighs, their lips parting soundlessly. They let you fuck upwards into them for a few moments, getting used to your rhythm, before they start to rock their own hips without lifting them.

It’s not really pumping in and out the way that you’re used to fucking them or Asriel, but it feels good to move your hips and press deeper into that unbearable wet heat, and Chara moves with you, drawing you in deeper, pressing the front and back of their walls against you. You’re almost deep enough inside them to touch that spongy spot that makes them come quickly, and maybe that’s why Chara’s making those low desperate noises as they grind against you.

Your pussy’s still so empty it aches, but Chara’s heat and their slick precome, their weight on your hips and their grip on your legs and the faint pleasure of their labia grazing yours—it feels so good, and it’s so intense and so new as it throbs through you. Orgasm is cresting steadily in you, building with each thrust, each gentle tightening of Chara’s walls.

Chara is breathing wildly as they fuck themself on your clit, their breasts and locket shaking just slightly, but their cries are still low and muted. They’re nowhere near as close as you. So you reach out—first with one hand, then the other—to cup their breasts, massaging gently and rolling their nipples under your thumbs.

Astride you, Chara jolts like they’ve touched a live wire, letting out a thick choked moan. “Frisk—more, _more,_ Frisk, you feel so good, I’m gonna—”

You squeeze a little more firmly and buck your hips up as hard as you dare, and Chara lets out one wordless shout, and they—their pussy _pulls_ as it contracts, like they want to draw you deeper and deeper inside them, until you won’t be able to tell where one of you ends and the other begins anymore. They drench your pubes and your vulva and your thighs as they come, thick steaming beads of their fluid rolling down your lips and over your ass.

At the very end they _squeeze_ you, and you whine and thrust up into their slippery tightness as their orgasm ebbs. You’re so close, _so close—_

There. Light bursts behind your eyes, and you think you cry out, but you’re not sure because _everything_ is blotted out in an immense and roaring rush of pleasure as strong as any orgasm you’ve ever had. But different—maybe more intense, or sharper, that all that pleasure is gathered in the heat where Chara envelops you.

They let go of your legs as soon as your body relaxes, and with your clit gone soft there’s nothing else to hold you together. Chara rises shakily on their knees; a few lazy ribbons of fluid trail from their pussy to your crotch, then break as Chara slouches to the side and collapses onto the mattress next to you.

“We need a blanket,” they mumble, “or we’ll get cold. Frisk—how did that feel?”

“Perfect,” you whisper back, pressing muzzy kisses to every part of them that’s close (their shoulder, their cheek, the side of their nose, their eyebrow). “You’re perfect.”

They sigh in a very contented sort of way. “I’m glad. You felt good inside me, Frisk.” They pat a hand at your face like they want to stroke you, but the motion is clumsy and tired. You squirm your butt off the pillows beneath your hips and kiss their pockmarked fingers. “I’m glad you suggested this. We should try it again sometime now that we’ve g—got a better idea of what we’re about.”

This is punctuated by a yawn, which you agree with very much, so you pull at the rumpled comforter until you’ve got enough to wrap up and over the two of you in a nest.

You cast your gaze to Chara. They’re sweaty and flushed, but they look as sated as you feel, their breathing already slowing and evening out, their mouth faintly curved.

A smile spreads soft across your own face. You sling an arm around their waist and close your eyes.


End file.
